Do As Much As You Can And It Still Won't Be Enough
by icefire-lioness
Summary: After the war, after everything, Ginny still wishes for something more. She has a beautiful family, but all she can think about is Draco. Draco and Ginny are stuck in the past, and it will cost them everything. D/G.


I had been walking on the beach for an hour, perhaps more, and I hadn't seen anyone.

So it came as a surprise when I saw the boy on the beach in front of me.

In the dusky air he looked like you.

I stopped just behind him and, raising my voice incredulously, said; "Draco Malfoy?"

He turned to me and I sighed. It wasn't you.

I mumbled something and he nodded in a friendly way, before turning back to the waves.

Walking further on, I realised with a painful stab that the boy was probably your son.

I don't know how I could have mistaken him for you now – he was you at nine, and I know that you are a year older than me, at twenty-eight.

I suppose, having not seen you since we were in school together, I had kept a picture of your face, that young, forever in my mind. There wasn't any time for me to change that picture over the years. I never saw you, and I doubt you ever saw me.

_It was Autumn when I last saw you. This was, if I can rely on Scorpius' memory, two or so months before he saw you at the beach. _

_I remember thinking that Autumn should be your season._

_Your leaf-filled hair seemed to match the sleeping trees around you._

_You were in a park, near my house._

_You were playing with a little girl._

_She had your hair._

_She had Harry's eyes._

_I remember thinking that those eyes should have been mine._

_Red hair and silver eyes always made a better combination, in my opinion._

_Not that I ever told you that. _

_I never had the chance to._

_I never spoke to you, and I doubt you ever spoke to me._

I know you can't hear me, but sometimes I wonder.

Perhaps there is some kind of magic that goes _beyond_ what can be done with wands.

There was Harry's spell, cast upon him inadvertently by his mothers love.

Perhaps my love for you means that you can hear me, through space and silence.

I don't know.

But I still speak to you.

_I miss the days we had by the lake in summer time, thirteen years ago._

_I miss kisses stolen in empty classrooms and once, that second of pure joy, when you said you loved me._

_I miss your voice. Do you miss me, I wonder?_

There aren't any words to describe how much I long for you.

There are days when I can't get out of bed, my body aches so badly.

My children miss me. My husband misses me.

I miss only you.

_I wonder what would happen if I came to your house, one day, and asked for you._

_Would I be thrown out before I could say 'hello'?_

_Perhaps I could meet you, merely to be your friend again._

_Anything would be better than never seeing you again, never hearing you speak to me again. But I don't know if I would be brave enough. And I don't know if you would let me._

Draco, why don't you ever come to me? My life feels empty without you. I hate feeling this way, and I know it bothers everyone around me. I am a terrible mother, and a terrible wife, because all I ever think of is you. I see your face in everything, now. In the water as I wash the dishes, the back of my spoon, the shine on the ribbon as I tie my little girl's hair. You are smiling up from every shining surface and I hate you for it, _hate you_. But at the same time I hope that this kind of madness never stops, because otherwise I'll forget your face, and that, that I could never stand.

_I have a photograph of you. I keep it in my wallet. You are smiling and dancing, and fifteen years old. The paper is wilting a little, coffee stained in one corner, but you still laugh up at me, your eyes shining and your hair whirling around you in a halo of fire. I've attempted to throw it out on at least six occasions, trying to move on with my life, but every time, something holds me back. I don't know what it is, but every time I am grateful. You have stolen my life from under me, and I am grateful!_

Please, visit me, just once. I want to hear you speak – and not my name as you do in my fantasies, every night, every time I am with Harry. No, I want your real voice saying; "Ginny, I love you, and only you. I always have, and I never forgot you. Come with me."

And, oh, I would! In a heartbeat.

If that makes me a terrible person, then…I don't know. Suppose I am a terrible person? What can I do about it? I love you, and I always have. Just please, _please_, tell me you love me too.

_I love you._

I love you.

_I miss you._

I miss you.

_I want to see you._

I want to see you.

_I want to hold you._

I want to hold you.

_Feel my heartbeat?_

Oh, feel my heart beat.

**Perhaps there was a time she loved me, but that time has long passed. I don't know why she married me. Perhaps she felt it was the right thing to do, and now, she feels tied to this family, this unhappy family. Oh, I can't lie; we are friends – the best of friends! But there is no more chemistry than between siblings.**

**I want Ginny back, I want my wife back, but I know she belongs to somebody else. I still love her, but there is a hole in my heart that she knows will never be filled again, and the Harry she loved when she was twelve has gone. She loves **_**him**_** now, and much as I wish it wasn't so, I have to make her happy. I visited Draco yesterday. I told him we needed to talk.**

_He visited me yesterday. Your husband. I never realised how brave he really is. He told me you loved me still. I didn't know what to do, what to say. Inside I was so excited I felt like throwing up, but he was so sad – he was your husband! What was I meant to do? I thanked him. And then I cried. That's all._

He told me. Harry told me. I cried. But what can I do?

_Will you see me now?_

I am coming to see you. I need to speak to you.

_Two days have gone by. Three. Time seems to slow down. I understand that you need time to think, but why so long? It has been too many years, and now this?_

I drove to your house, the house Harry told me to visit. Your wife was there, and your son. They told me that you had gone away. They knew who I was. I felt so lost.

_I am here. Waiting for you. Why don't you come?_

I came back again, but still, you were not there. Are you running away from me? Do you not love me, really? Did Harry lie?

_Waiting is such a long process. It makes me walk around the house at three in the morning, waking Scorpius, who will sit silently on the couch, watching me stride without purpose from one end of the kitchen to the next. Why don't you come?_

I came again. Your wife was not there, but your son was. He didn't smile or act in any way as though he was pleased to see I was there. What else am I supposed to expect?

He told me to come through. You were not there. I waited. You did not come. Why don't you come?

_I had to sit on the beach for a time. I fell asleep and woke as the moon slipped over the horizon. When I arrived back home, Scorpius told me you had been and gone._

_Why didn't you wait?_

This morning I knew you would be there. I had sent you a message. You said you would wait. I drove recklessly in the morning frost, so I suppose it shouldn't have come as a surprise. As I skidded to a stop out the front of your house, the frost slipped under my wheels and I crashed. I remember seeing your face before I lost consciousness.

_I heard the crash from my study. Running outside I saw your body, crushed between the wheel and your seat, which had somehow moved forwards. Your hair was all over your face, but I could still see it was you._

_The red of your hair hid most of the blood, but there was no denying it was there._

_I took you out of the car and held your body, soft with un-life. I didn't know what to do. This was not how I wanted to see you again. Why did you do this?_

There isn't much light here. It all seems rather dark, to be honest.

I don't think it's heaven, but it seems too cold to be hell.

Perhaps I'm in purgatory?

What a funny world we live in.

What a funny place we die in.

I can't believe I didn't even see your face.

What a waste.


End file.
